


Counting Wins

by antimonyandthyme



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, but soft as heck, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimonyandthyme/pseuds/antimonyandthyme
Summary: “It has come to my attention,” he says, a tad aggressively, “that I would like to have dinner with you.”
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Counting Wins

There’s no reason why they should be standing this close, Sakusa decides, and talking so happily together. And most definitely no reason why Oikawa should have his hand on Ushijima’s hip.

“If looks could kill,” Atsumu starts.

“Shut up,” he hisses.

Atsumu snorts, but he thankfully chooses to let the matter drop, while Sakusa continues to glare at the offending party in question. Oikawa’s only been gone three months, does Ushijima have to look so happy? It’s subtle—Ushijima’s never been one for excited gestures and boisterous exclamations, but Sakusa can tell from the crinkle around his eyes. 

Something insistent stirs in him, opens wide and shows its teeth. It spurs him into action, propels him forward until he’s planted himself firm and unyielding in front of the both of them. Ushijima blinks at him. Oikawa just looks smug. 

“It has come to my attention,” he says, a tad aggressively, “that I would like to have dinner with you.”

Ushijima’s mouth drops open a little, and he tilts his head in that infuriatingly endearing way that suggests he’s confused. Behind them, Atsumu releases a strangled gasp. Oikawa just laughs, but he pulls away from Ushijima, and Sakusa counts that as a small win. 

“Well done, Kiyoomi-kun,” he crows, sounding oddly delighted. “And here I thought you were just gonna singe my eyebrows off with your stare.” He grabs Ushijima’s arm and shakes him a little, as if he could convey some hidden message from that action alone, and then thrusts him forward toward Sakusa. “Ushiwaka-chan, you can thank me later for this.”

“I don’t understand,” Ushijima blurts out, shifting his gaze between Sakusa and Oikawa in barely concealed panic. “Thank you for what?”

“My, my,” Oikawa tuts, dramatic as ever. “No wonder poor Kiyoomi-kun needed my help.”

Sakusa gets the urge to throttle him, but unfortunately, he’d been brought up with impeccable manners. “Thank you for your help,” he grits out instead, and is only mildly relieved the mask is hiding his scowl. Oikawa’s grin somehow grows wider. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Sakusa tugs persistently at Ushijima’s arm, and Ushijima, acquiescent as he is, allows himself to be pulled away.

\--

“Ah,” Ushijima says, and Sakusa can tell he’s straining to keep steady. “I didn’t realize this was what you meant by dinner.”

Sakusa huffs, smoothing his hands down Ushijima’s thighs, gratified at the tension he feels in the cord of muscle. Ushijima’s heaving, breath stuttering every now and then, and a flush has made its way all the way down to his chest. “You’re clueless,” he mutters accusingly, although the sight of Ushijima lying taut beneath him takes most of the bite out of his words. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Yes,” Ushijima agrees, in that earnest way of his that squeezes at Sakusa’s insides. “I am.”

Sakusa ducks his head to hide his own embarrassment, his feet curling. It feels too soon to tell Ushijima that his words have that effect on him. Instead, he mouths his way methodically down Ushijima’s chest, pressing feather-light kisses into his skin like secret benedictions. He discovers the inside of the knee causes Ushijima to gasp, and he applies lips and teeth until he knows there’ll be a bruise there tomorrow, until Ushijima shifts at the pressure. Ushijima’s half-hard now, Sakusa’s pleased to observe, and his hips strain up with impatience.

“Kiyoomi,” he says, voice wavering. “Please.”

“Alright,” because Ushijima need only ask, has only ever needed to ask. He leans down, swirling his tongue around the tip of Ushijima’s cock, teasing and gentle. The first contact has Ushijima jerking helplessly, his hand fisting into the sheets, his legs pushing wider apart. 

“Oh,” he says softly. “Kiyoomi.”

Sakusa sucks him in, pressing his lips tightly together, moving slowly down until he feels the intrusive pressure at the back of his throat. He pulls up, goes back down again, using his hand to reach the base of Ushijima’s cock. Ushijima groans, trembling, as Sakusa sets a nice, slow rhythm. Part way, he reaches for Ushijima’s hand, and guides it to the back of his head. 

“You can hold me there,” he mumbles. 

Ushijima doesn’t grip his hair, doesn’t tug. He curls his hand around the side of Sakusa’s face, palm to his cheek, fingers pushed into his hair, and it somehow feels more intimate than anything they’ve done up to this point. 

Sakusa flushes at Ushijima’s tiny smile, reserved only for the rarest of moments. And suddenly it’s easy to admit, “You. You don’t know what you do to me, Wakatoshi-kun.” He doesn’t wait for Ushijima’s reply, but goes back to blowing him, resolving to give it as good as Ushijima’s ever got. Ushijima’s hand never leaves his face, cradling him almost as if he were something precious. Sakusa relaxes his jaw, breathing carefully through his nose, as he takes Ushijima in further.

The buck of Ushijima’s hips is immediate, but he massages Sakusa’s head in apology. He’s known on court for his power, but Sakusa’s aware his true strength lies in his control, his discipline, and even now, Ushijima reigns his body in, keeps still to avoid hurting Sakusa, even though every muscle in him is longing to thrust up. He’s close, Sakusa can tell. 

Sakusa pulls away, savouring the desperate noise Ushijima makes. He reaches for the lube at the bottom of the bed, drizzling a generous amount of his fingers. Ushijima stares, pupils blown wide, breaths shallow. 

“Wakatoshi-kun, open wider for me?” he says, and Ushijima obeys instantly. It’s heady, the way Ushijima _listens_ , the way he’s so willing to be led when all Sakusa wants to do is follow him. Sakusa settles himself snug against the back of Ushijima’s thighs, wrapping his left hand around Ushijima’s leaking cock, and trailing his right hand suggestively around the curve of Ushijima’s ass, toward his hole. 

“Ah, there,” Ushijima chokes out, “ah, _I can’t, ah_ —”

Sakusa bends down and licks a stripe from root to tip, pushing two fingers into Ushijima’s clenching hole. Ushijima moans, legs jerking close, even as his hips jump forward, as if his body’s vacillating between rejecting or welcoming the breach. “Kiyoomi, _Kiyoomi_ —”

“I got you,” Sakusa says. He curls his arm around Ushijima’s shaking leg, plants a kiss right on the bruise he left earlier, loving and careful. He’ll be careful with Ushijima, he’ll be gentle, he’ll be everything Ushijima deserves. “I got you, Wakatoshi-kun.”

Ushijima reaches his left hand for him again. He thumbs Sakusa's eyebrow before asking, “May I hold you again?”

“Please,” Sakusa says reverently, and relishes Ushijima’s grip in his hair, stronger and even more fervent than before. 

Sakusa takes him back in his mouth, even as he works his fingers in and out of Ushijima’s ass. He tries to burn to memory the way Ushijima sounds, quiet gasps and breathless pleas, and the way his body undulates when supplied with pleasure. Muscle and skin and power, the picture of perfection, all unravelling under him, and Sakusa thinks he could finish from the sight alone. But more importantly—Ushijima first, and Sakusa’s relentless fingers find the spot that sets Ushijima’s entire body shaking, from his twitching hands to his fluttering hole to his straining thighs. 

“I’m going to, _ah_ , Kiyoomi, I’m going to— _can I?_ ”

It’s such an Ushijima thing to do—ask for permission—and Sakusa would laugh if he could. As it stands, with Ushijima looking at him like that, with his eyes wide and beseeching and intent, all Sakusa can say is, “Yes, yes, of course you can, _yes_ , Wakatoshi-kun.”

Ushijima comes with a shout muffled against the back of his hand, body tensing like a whip in mid-flight, right before a flawless spike, and Sakusa strokes him through it, murmurs things like, _Yeah, good, I got you, I got you baby_. 

When Ushijima slumps back on the sheets, Sakusa surges up, chest tight with emotion, and kisses him soundly on the mouth. He feels the curve of Ushijima’s smile against his lips. “Let me. For you.”

“Ah,” Sakusa says, realizing belatedly that he’s still hard and dripping, and how had he completely forgotten? He’d just wanted to kiss Ushijima that badly. 

“Show me?” Ushijima ventures. He wraps a tentative hand around Sakusa. 

“Just like that,” Sakusa whispers, eyes fluttering close as he shudders apart in Ushijima’s tender hold. 

\--

The next time Oikawa visits, and leans a little too closely into Ushijima’s space, Sakusa’s prepared.

“It has come to my attention,” he says, a tad too smugly, “that I would like to have dinner with you.”

Atsumu coughs, and taps out of the conversation instantly by backpedalling away. Oikawa looks like he’s about to retort, because he’s in the middle of showing pictures of himself in the new Athletico San Juan jersey they just debuted. 

But then Ushijima smiles his tiny, beautiful smile. “I'm not opposed. And after of course, we can—”

“ _Gross_ ,” Oikawa wails, and prances after Atsumu, which Sakusa counts as a win.

Ushijima’s eyes are crinkled up.

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to all the UshiSaku lovers out there wow I'm living for all this new content of the two of them.


End file.
